


Dares and Daquiris

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: Pansy offers up her family's beach house for Hermione's recovery after a breakup but she finds it already occupied.





	Dares and Daquiris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DHLane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DHLane/gifts).



**Part 1: The Dare**

 

“He can have any witch he wants, ain’t that right, Malfoy?”

 

Lucius didn’t dignify the statement with a reply, although it was undeniably true.

 

“Maybe you ain’t heard, mate. His wife done run off with another witch!” was the slurred and howling reply.

 

The discussion circled Lucius without his actual contribution. He signaled the bartender with the merest flick of his fingers for another drink. The saving grace of the Ministry party was the open bar. Only after a sip of scotch did he rejoin the conversation. Narcissa’s decision to seek divorce and then go public with her relationship to the treacherous Zabini witch had left Lucius the center of much amusement.

 

“Any witch here?”

 

“Pick one.”

 

Too late, Lucius realized that drunken idiots should not be allowed to participate in conversation without supervision.

 

“That one – Potter’s little friend.”

 

Lucius followed William Parkinson’s pointing finger to the witch dancing with one of the numerous Weasleys.

 

“What about her?” he asked. It was the Muggle-born girl, Hermione Granger. Lucius was surprised to see her move so sensually, like a witch older than her age. As he watched her with her clod of a partner, he felt indignation on her behalf. A quick Confundus would rid her of the oaf. It was obvious that the boy was no match for someone so… so… Surely he wasn’t feeling any sort of attraction for the younger Muggle-born.

 

“He can’t do it,” scoffed Gerald Nott. 

 

“Can’t do what?” Lucius inquired, eyes finally leaving the witch.

 

William’s grin should have been warning enough.

 

“Take a souvenir,” leered Gerald.

 

“Give me your wand,” Lucius replied, ignoring the dare. “You may not cast spells in this condition.”

 

“Bring back her knickers,” William chortled.

 

“I am not sixteen,” Lucius snapped.

 

“No, you’re in-cap-a-ble,” Gerald annunciated.

 

Lucius huffed and returned to his drink. It was time to leave but he’d have to see the inebriated buffoons home.

 

“Five hundred Galleons,” announced William loudly enough to catch the attention of nearby revelers.

 

“Careful, Parkinson. I’ll take you seriously if you involve money,” Lucius drawled.

 

“I’ll match that,” Gerald grinned.

 

“And you’ll regret it,” Lucius replied. He tossed back his drink and left the bar so quickly that Gerald and William became dizzy looking for him.

 

~*~

 

“May I cut in?” asked a familiar voice.

 

When a hand directed Hermione to spin away from Ron, she followed a little too enthusiastically and bumped into a body.

 

Her laughter cut short when she looked up and found her new dance partner to be Lucius Malfoy.

 

“Oh! Mr. Malfoy!” Confused, she stopped dancing. Surely he didn’t want to dance with her. She peered around him for Ron but he was gone - probably already sleeping it off under a table.

 

“Can I help you?” she asked, cheeks flushing with uncertainty. Lucius Malfoy had been cleared of his Death Eater activities by the Ministry’s Blanket Forgiveness Act, but Hermione knew better. Intoxicated, Hermione was hyperaware of her vulnerability.

 

“As a matter of fact,” he replied mysteriously, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and guiding her through the other drunken dancers. 

 

Hermione was lightheaded with anxiety by the time they reached the row of columns leading to the courtyard.

 

“I’ve had quite a bit to drink,” she said, pulling free and tipsily leaning against a column. If she were to leave the ballroom, she would be out of sight of her friends.

 

“What do you imagine I want from you, Ms. Granger?”

 

“I have no idea,” she replied dryly.

 

Lucius seemed to move fast; he was suddenly too close. The ballroom went silent and fell away when a gloved hand splayed on the column beside her hip and another drew fingertips down her jaw. Something like fear shivered through Hermione and she remembered to breathe.

 

“What are you-” she went wordless as his thumb caressed her chin and then slipped between her lips, gently tugging the bottom one on its way out. A little fire burst to flickering life in Hermione’s gut and her limbs went taut.

 

“Five minutes of your time,” he hissed.

 

“Don’t you hate me?” she whispered, still capable of some logic even in her alcohol-induced stupor.

 

“I never have,” he said, eyes fixed on her mouth.

 

“I have – I have a boyfriend,” Hermione recalled automatically.

 

“All I want is your knickers,” Lucius said with a tap of his finger on her hip.

 

The small touch sent ripples through her. “What?”

 

“I’ll be happy to earn them,” he purred.

 

When Hermione moved as if to walk away, both of his hands dropped to her hips and firmly rocked her back. There was something more electric than threatening in his action. He leaned closer, sneaking a knee between her legs, and she had to swallow a moan. Lucius Malfoy certainly knew how to pin a woman. She was utterly at his mercy and found the rush rather euphoric.

 

Before she had the chance to think, Lucius pulled her to the dark privacy of the column’s shadow and brushed his stubbled cheek against hers, sending breath into her ear that warmed her all the way to her toes.

 

A little alarm tingled in Hermione’s head; something was very, very wrong. She turned her head and wedged her arms between her and the wizard.

 

“What are you doing, Lucius?” she breathed.

 

As if to convince her to forget that she had a boyfriend, Lucius claimed her lips. Indeed, his victory silenced the alarm for quite awhile; long enough for his hand to find its way up to her silky thigh and Hermione’s fingers to weave themselves into his lovely hair. Her fiery response was as undeniable as the cock swelling against her leg. Her pulse roared in her ears and she could barely catch her breath as Lucius conquered her in the shadows.

 

Hermione was helpless against the man – his touch rendered her deaf, mute and wholly his. She felt his fingers hook the elastic of her knickers and begin tugging them down. That startled her.

 

With a soft, gasping cry, Hermione shoved him away.

 

~*~

 

Lucius felt as if he was awakening from the Imperius. He fought to keep his feet as the witch kicked off her knickers, picked them up and chucked them at him. She hurried away, looking equal parts spooked and furious. Lucius tucked the scrap of fabric into his pocket, feeling oddly possessive of it.

 

Luckily, Parkinson and Nott were long-gone. Lucius treated himself to a Chilling Charm before attempting to Apparate home. The little witch had drugged him with her passion. It was _her_ fault that things had gone so far.

 

**Part 2: The Daiquiri**

“No floo connection, no Apparating in without the key and you know the spell to repel owls – you can take a _complete_ vacation, H.”

 

“Are you sure your parents won’t mind?” Hermione asked, already sold. The charmed key to the Parkinsons’ Unplottable vacation home was already tucked tightly into her palm.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Quit worrying about it. They’re mad with work and don’t have plans to use the cottage until fall.” Noticing a familiar sadness creeping up her friend’s features, Pansy softened a little.

 

“Sure I can’t fling an Unforgivable at him when he’s not looking?”

 

Hermione chuckled and wiped under her eyes. “It was a mutual agreement – but that doesn’t make it any easier. A vacation will do me good. Any cute guys around there?” Hermione hoped to change Pansy’s focus with her teasing question. She didn’t want to think about Ron Weasley any more.

 

Pansy tossed back the rest of her drink and smirked. “I can find you cute guys here. The cottage is warded against Muggles – you probably won’t meet anyone unless you venture out. Oooh, come to think of it, you’ll need to stock the shelves and replace whatever you drink from the cellar.”  

 

Hermione grinned and sipped her blue daiquiri. Pansy was a wit when sober but hilarious when drunk. “Did that babble come from you?”

 

A paper umbrella bounced off Hermione’s nose and landed in her glass.

 

“Watch it, witch. I have chunks of slush,” she warned. Pansy’s inebriated mind had already moved on. She was draped over the wingback chair with her knees over one of the arms and her head resting on the other. Her empty glass hung from her fingertips.

 

“You’re single, H,” she mused.

 

“For about five minutes now,” Hermione replied suspiciously.

 

Pansy’s dark eyes glimmered with mischief.

 

“I know some nice wizards…” Pansy cooed.

 

Hermione snorted. “You do not. And don’t you dare think about setting me up with someone.”

 

Pansy shrugged and tapped her wand on her glass, refilling it with a red wine spritzer.

 

“If you could fuck any wizard, who would it be..?” Pansy drawled after draining half of her glass.

 

It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. Without fail, Pansy asked the question every Friday night. She’d even blabbed to someone that Hermione had thought Cedric Diggory was cute – it had gotten back to Ron and he’d given her a horrible time about it.

 

Since that disaster of a Ministry party, Hermione had only one wizard on her mind. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget how very exquisite Lucius Malfoy’s touch had felt. She kept expecting an owl bearing a blackmail letter, but she told herself it was very likely that Lucius didn’t even remember the night. In fact, he had probably mistaken her for someone else.

 

“Am I going to have to cast an Unbreakable Vow to get you to keep your mouth shut this time?” Hermione threatened.

 

Pansy sat up a little. “Ooh! You’ve thought of someone new.”

 

“Have you?” Hermione quipped back. Pansy always had the same answer.

 

“Who, H?”

 

“Guess,” Hermione smirked. Pansy gave her the finger, to which she returned fire with a chunk of slushy ice. Pansy shrieked and charmed Hermione’s hair green. They both dissolved into laughter and ended up on the overstuffed pillows in front of the fire.

 

“Every Friday night, you two? _Really_?”

 

Pansy went fuzzier than if she was just drunk.  She turned onto her stomach and kicked her feet in the air. The wizard standing in the doorway had her complete attention. His hair stuck in all directions – nothing new – and his glasses were on crooked but he made her feel like the only woman in the world. And she was utterly in love with him.

 

“Sorry, love,” she said softly.

 

“Nice hair, Hermione,” Harry shook his head as he went back to bed.

 

“ _You’re obscene_ ,” Hermione teased.

 

“Don’t make me Imperio you,” Pansy replied, tapping a finger on her wand.

 

Hermione bit her lip and sat up, staring at the fire. She shot Pansy a glance out of the corner of her eye. “I’m not sure I’m ready to say this one.”

 

“What?” Pansy laughed.

 

Hermione sighed. “I don’t have one.”

 

“Hippogriff shit, H.”

 

“No, I’m not ready to tell. It’s nothing.”

 

“Wow. This one must still be alive,” Pansy chortled.

 

Hermione felt her face go hot and she crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“Do you see him at the Ministry?” Pansy asked.

 

Ah. So, Pansy was going to play her game. “Not lately,” Hermione answered.

 

Eyes shining, Pansy pursued with questions. “Where did you meet him?”

 

“I first saw him in Flourish and Blotts,” Hermione said slowly. “But that is of little consequence – it was a long time ago…”

 

Pansy was wearing her calculating expression and it made Hermione nervous. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

 

“Did he go to Hogwarts with us?”

 

Hermione shook her head.

 

“He’s older,” Pansy smiled. “Very nice, H.”

 

“Stop, Pansy. I changed my mind. I don’t want to say.”

 

“Why not? I won’t tell – swear on Salazar!”

 

“It’s- it’s embarrassing.”

 

“Is he ugly?” Pansy asked with a predicted wrinkle of her nose.

 

“No.”

 

“Then, what?”

 

After a moment, Hermione replied, “He despises me.”

 

Pansy snorted. “Impossible. Even I don’t hate you… Anymore.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help her grin, but she also couldn’t help but wish she could cast a memory charm on Pansy and not feel guilty about it.

 

“Older and despises you, older and despises you… And _alive_ …” Pansy muttered.

 

Hermione polished off her daiquiri and wondered if she really wanted another or just not to remember finally spilling her secret to her best friend.

 

“Please tell me he’s not related to your ex,” Pansy demanded.

 

“None of the Weasleys _despise_ me,” Hermione retorted.

 

“Not one of them, then,” Pansy muttered, slipping back into her thoughts.

 

“Alright, knob. I’m for bed,” Hermione said, dusting off her backside and setting her glass on the bar.

 

“Don’t be a cow! You’re not going until you tell me who the fuck you want to fuck!” Pansy exclaimed.

 

“ _I_ don’t want to know that!” Harry’s annoyed voice sang good-naturedly from down the corridor.

 

“Shit,” Pansy hissed with a genuine grimace.

 

Hermione loved that Pansy loved Harry so much. She knelt beside her soused friend and gave her a peck on her forehead – which she knew Pansy would murder her for later – and sighed.

 

“He is none other than the _father_ of _your_ ex,” she said and Disapparated for home to pack.

 

Pansy’s owl caught her just as she was snapping her suitcase shut.

 

_“If I see Lucius, I’ll send him your regards.”_

 

~*~

 

When Hermione set down her suitcase and spelled a fire in the grate, her first thought was that she was going to kill Pansy. Her second one wondered if Lucius Malfoy always slept in trousers. 

 

Sprawled and snoring, in all of his shirtless glory across the sofa, lay Lucius Malfoy.

 

Hermione plopped into the wingback chair and watched him, utterly at a loss. Being in his proximity made her brain go wooly and she simply drank in the sight of him, unashamedly admiring the wizard while she could. Even in sleep, he radiated a virile magnetism. It was a struggle not to lean close to tease the soft-looking hairs on his stomach.

 

Hermione sighed, wondering if she ought to just return home. She drew her wand and levitated the quilt from the back of the sofa until it covered most of Lucius. The next thing she knew, she was casting a shield charm because Lucius sprang from the sofa with his wand leveled right between her eyes.

 

“I’m not attacking!” she trilled, holding her hands up in peace. “Pansy said I could use the cottage!”

 

Recognition lit in his eyes and he lowered his wand. “Ah, yes. She did not know I am here – no one does.”

 

“Not the Parkinsons?” Hermione asked warily.

 

“Not their daughter,” Lucius clarified sharply. He dropped back onto the sofa, glancing between Hermione and the fireplace.

 

Hermione backed out of the firelight. Did he remember what he’d done to her? Did he know how he’d made her feel?

 

“I’m sorry that I disturbed you – I shall leave straight away.”

 

Hermione found her suitcase and was preparing to Disapparate when Lucius’ voice stopped her.

 

“Wait,” he commanded. “Why are you here?”

 

“Why are _you_ here?” Hermione countered, regaining some of her wits.

 

“Fair enough,” was the enigmatic answer.

 

“I split with my boyfriend,” Hermione braved after a moment.

 

“An intelligent decision,” Lucius drawled, eyes glinting in the firelight.

 

“I beg your pardon.” Had she heard him correctly?

 

“Forgive me. It’s not my place.”

 

Lucius set his wand aside and the firelight lovingly illuminated his musculature. Hermione forced herself to look away. She was intrigued by Lucius’ remarks and, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to leave.

 

“If you’d like to remain in the cottage, don’t let my presence deter you – it’s quite large.”

 

Completely unbidden, Hermione’s mind conjured images of sharing a domestic space with Lucius Malfoy. Her heart quickened. Vacationing on a French beach, cut-off from wizarding Britain… Alone with Lucius Malfoy…

 

“You don’t think it would be frowned upon? Two single persons alone in a vacation home?”

 

“I’m old enough to be your father,” Lucius scoffed.

 

“That doesn’t bother me,” Hermione replied airily.

 

Lucius blinked, “What did I ask?”

 

Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face. “What did I _say_?”

 

“What doesn’t bother you..?”

 

Merlin, the man was even more devastating wearing a genuine expression. “I, er, well, that is… What?”

 

After a moment of curious staring, Lucius sighed. “I hoped you wouldn’t remember the Ministry function.”

 

“I haven’t been able to forget,” Hermione said softly. “I assumed you would blackmail me.”

 

Lucius’ mouth curled into a grin. “To what end?”

 

“I do not presume to know your mind,” Hermione shrugged.

 

“All that wasted suspicion… I suppose I should come up with something. You work for Wizengamot Administration?”

 

It took a moment for Hermione to realize that Lucius was teasing her.

 

“We’re tip-toeing around the real issue,” she said, sitting down once more in the wingback chair. Little bubbles were zinging around her insides, spreading giddy joy at holding a conversation with the wizard that had haunted her for the past month.

 

“That I’m _older_ than your father?”

 

Hermione quelled a smile. “You are, actually, but you know that’s not what I mean.”

 

“Come here,” Lucius ordered.

 

Hermione frowned and her palms went slick but she didn’t move.

 

When Lucius leaned over and picked up his wand, Hermione’s throat tightened. He lifted a beckoning finger at her and testily tapped his wand on his thigh.

 

“I have no reservations about casting Unforgivables, Ms. Granger,” Lucius warned. “But, I merely want to show you something.”

 

Trembling, Hermione stood and took the couple of steps to Lucius’ sofa. She slowly sat down, careful not to touch him. All of her caution was for naught. The wizard leaned over her, forcing her back until she lay trapped under him.

 

“Enlighten me,” he whispered, hovering a mere centimeter above, “on the real issue.”

 

“Blood,” was all that Hermione’s melting brain could translate into a spoken word.

 

“Ah, blood,” Lucius crooned. He rewarded her with the weight of his body.

 

It was like a release, cradling him. Hermione’s skin practically sang with delight to feel Lucius again.

 

“I come from excellent blood,” Lucius said, drawing Hermione’s robes slowly up her legs.

 

“No, mine,” Hermione gasped, torn between exasperation and pleasure as he shifted his weight, nudging his unmistakable erection against her burning center. Gooey, fiery delight surged immediately through her.

 

“Do you really think I would seduce you,” he tongued her ear, sending darts of hot pleasure right to her core, “if I were concerned with your blood?”

 

Soft, helpless sounds escaped from Hermione’s lips as Lucius played her body. When she tried to touch him in return, he pinned her hands. A spell, so unobtrusive that she never saw the wand, bound her arms tight to the sofa and Lucius began his torture in earnest.

 

Another spell rent Hermione’s robes right down the front, to which she might have protested if not for the convenience of magic. Lucius fixed his mouth on one of her nipples and all thoughts of torn robes flitted away like sparks from the dying fire. Between the expert suckling and the hand resting weighty and still between her thighs, Hermione couldn’t help but squirm. When his hand inched closer to her nether lips, she moaned, aching for him to touch her.

 

“Lucius,” she sighed.

 

The wizard leaned up, looking her in the face for a moment before capturing her mouth in a complex kiss that left her tingling. All too soon, he abandoned her mouth and kissed a lingering trail down her neck, between her breasts and across her abdomen. By the time he reached her mons of downy curls, Hermione was mad with want. A mantra of ‘oh god, oh god, oh god,’ was repeating in her head.

 

“Lucius, please,” she crooned.

 

“Say that again,” he breathed against her hip.

 

“Please, Lucius,” Hermione begged.

 

Lucius groaned and fisted his hands in the torn robes. Hermione was ecstatic to find a way to reach him.

 

“I want you, Lucius, please…”

 

A wordless growl came from the wizard and he sat up, undoing his belt and pants. “As my lady wishes.”

 

Just to shove him over the edge, Hermione made one last plea, “Please, fuck me, Lucius. Please.”

 

Her appeal was successful. Lucius flicked his wand, casting Merlin-knows-what, and fell on Hermione, piercing her deep.

 

Finally.

 

Hermione’s arms were free and she clutched Lucius’ shoulders as he rode her, her hips rocking with his lead. In and out, he surged. There was something so instinctive and primitive about intercourse. Lucius made her feel like a desirable woman – more than any other wizard had done. Being filled to the brim by male cock made her feel simply complete. The tell-tale signs of impending bliss rippled through Hermione and she wanted to fight it. She wanted the moment to last forever. Lucius leaned over her, changing the angle of his penetration and she was done for. Brilliant stars exploded behind her eyes and she cried out as black bliss swallowed her whole. She was cognizant enough to know that Lucius joined her in the luxury of climax.

 

Sharing a sofa might have been uncomfortable with any other wizard. Hermione didn’t mind being held close by Lucius in the least. She sighed contentedly when he nuzzled her jaw.

 

“Would you like me to leave? Give you the cottage?”

 

Lucius’ question was ludicrous. She squinted at him. “On the contrary, I’d like you to give me a tour – introduce every room just-” She kissed what she could reach of his neck. “Like.” She licked the same spot. “This.” She nipped the tendon in his neck eliciting a groan and he tightened his hold.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Originally written in 2010 for an exchange fest, I believe. 
> 
> Giftee: DHLane  
> Hermione has just broken up with her boyfriend and takes a holiday with the encouragement of her best mate, Pansy Parkinson. Pansy offers her families beach cottage for the time away and Hermione accepts. When she arrives, she discovers that she is not the only one staying in the cottage. Should she stay or should she go?


End file.
